My father is Chongzhen? Then I have no choice but to rebel.

Inside the waterside pavilion, the atmosphere remained incredibly lively.

Emperor Chongzhen was in high spirits and then discussed some details of the ceremony with Li Zong, as if it were not a ceremony for the fall of a country, but a grand celebration for all.

As the sun gradually slanted westward, it cast long shadows of the two men onto the smooth ground and onto the report of their martial arts victory.

A king from an old era sacrificed everything to secure a slim chance of survival for himself and his family.

An emperor of a new era found ultimate satisfaction in the achievements and glory of expanding his territory, surpassing all the hardships and humiliations of the past.

Each gets what they need and each gets what they deserve.

The wheels of history, amidst the complex calculations of human hearts and the vanity of emperors, roar forward, crushing the ruins of old dynasties and heading towards a new era that seems glorious and splendid, yet is destined to be full of unknowns.

Late June, the eighteenth year of the Chongzhen reign (1644), Beijing.

It was the height of summer, and the sun was scorching, but the capital of this empire did not falter in the slightest due to the heat.

On the contrary, ever since the emperor and the crown prince fled north to Liaodong and then led their troops to the capital, an indescribable vitality and restlessness has been flowing through the fabric of this ancient capital.

In the streets and alleys, in teahouses and taverns, the topics of conversation always revolved around the war thousands of miles away. The anticipation for the "royal army," the desire for victory, and the vague yearning for a better future intertwined into an invisible torrent that surged and fermented over the capital.

On this day, in the late afternoon, when the sun was at its strongest and the fewest pedestrians were,...

Outside Yongding Gate, the official road leading to the Forbidden City was slightly hot from the scorching sun. The locust trees along the road drooped their leaves, and cicadas chirped tirelessly in the dense shade.

The soldiers guarding the city also leaned against the shade of the gate, their armor half-undone, and were drowsy.

Suddenly, a rapid, popping sound of hooves, carrying an undeniable penetrating force, came from the southeast along the official road, shattering the languidness and tranquility of the summer afternoon!
"De de de—de de de—!"

The horseshoes struck the bluestone pavement with a sharp, rapid sound, carrying a sense of urgency that seemed to tear through the air and could not be ignored.

The soldiers who were dozing under the city gate suddenly woke up, instinctively gripped their spears, and peered out.

At the end of the official road, dust billowed up, and a rider, like an arrow released from a bow, galloped toward the city gate at an astonishing speed! The rider was soaked in sweat, and the red courier uniform clung to his body, its color a dark hue. The small red flag on his back fluttered in the wind, and the large character "驿" (courier) and an even more conspicuous character "捷" (success) on the flag were clearly visible even in the billowing dust!
He was a courier! And a courier carrying the most urgent military intelligence, known as the "600-li express courier"!
Judging by the color of the flag, it's the highest-ranking red flag! And judging by the direction it's coming from, it's from Liaodong, or even further...

A thought flashed through the minds of all the witnesses like lightning:

News from the front lines! From the Liaodong camp! (Korea!)

"Make way! Make way now! Urgent dispatch! Great victory in Korea!!"

When the knight was still a hundred paces from the city gate, he mustered all his strength and roared hoarsely. His voice, hoarse and torn from the long journey and extreme excitement, was like a thunderclap, instantly waking up the entire road and startling everyone inside and outside the city gate who was drowsy.

"A great victory in North Korea?!"

The gatekeeper, startled, jumped up and scrambled to the center of the city gate, shouting at his still somewhat dazed subordinates:

"Idiot! What are you standing there for?! Clear the road! Clear the road now! Let the messenger into the city!"

The soldiers snapped out of their daze and hurriedly dispersed the few pedestrians and vendors near the city gate, completely clearing the already wide passageway.

The post horse barely slowed down, like a red lightning bolt, carrying dust, sweat, and scorching hot air as it roared into the wide-open city gate! The sound of its hooves echoed loudly in the gate, making people's eardrums tingle.

"Great news! A resounding victory in Korea! The Jurchen army has been completely annihilated! The false emperor has been captured! Korea has submitted to the Celestial Empire—!!!"

The courier's roars did not cease; instead, they grew even louder and more frantic as he charged into the city, echoing through the streets and markets! He no longer held back his horse's speed, nor did he heed any rules about "no galloping in the streets." He simply whipped his already foaming-at-the-mouth mount with all his might, racing wildly along Qipan Street and Zhengyangmen Avenue towards the imperial city, using the last breath in his lungs to shout that earth-shattering news again and again into the city that had just been awakened!

"Great news! A great victory in Korea! The Jurchens have been defeated! The false emperor has been captured! Korea has submitted to the Ming Dynasty—!!!"

The sound was like a spark thrown into boiling oil, instantly igniting the entire street and then spreading across the whole of Beijing at an incredible speed!
On both sides of the street, the windows of teahouses and taverns were suddenly pushed open, and faces of astonishment, confusion, and then ecstasy peeked out.

An old man fanning himself with a palm leaf fan by the roadside, a woman carrying a basket, children playing, a constable patrolling the street, and even a stray dog ​​dozing under the eaves all seemed to be frozen in place, their eyes following the red figure that had vanished into the distance, their ears ringing with that incredible shout.

The deathly silence lasted only a brief moment.

The next moment, like a volcano that had been suppressed for thousands of years suddenly erupting, the entire street, no, the entire city of Beijing, seemed to tremble violently, and was then submerged in a tidal wave of cheers and jubilation!

"We won! My God! We really won! The Jurchens are finished!!"

"Korea! Korea has also come under the control of our Great Ming?! Am I dreaming?!"

"Long live the Emperor! Long live the Crown Prince! Heaven bless the Ming Dynasty! Heaven bless the Ming Dynasty!!"

"We've won! Our Great Ming has won! From this day forward, Liaodong is completely at peace! Korea also belongs to our Great Ming!"

"Quick! Go tell Manager Wang! Tell Master Li! It's incredible news! It's news so great it's like the sky is falling!"

"Beat the gongs! Beat the drums! Set off the firecrackers! What are we waiting for?! Let's celebrate! We must celebrate!"

A wave of ecstasy emanated from the streets traversed by the post horses, spreading rapidly in all directions like ripples on water. People poured out of their houses into the streets, acquaintances and strangers alike, pulling and slapping each other, repeating the news of victory incoherently, their faces beaming with unbelievable, almost manic joy.

Some impatient people rushed home, rummaged through drawers and cabinets to find firecrackers and drums that they had been saving for the New Year, and started banging them loudly in the street. The owners and waiters of teahouses and taverns also forgot about business and simply brought out a few jars of cheap wine and distributed them for free at their doorsteps, which drew even more enthusiastic cheers.

This frenzied, almost chaotic celebration did not stem solely from the victory in a distant war.

The deeper reasons, like undercurrents, have been surging in the veins of this city for a long time.

"Old Wang! Did you hear that? We've taken Korea! Our Great Ming Dynasty is truly on the verge of a revival! A golden age is coming!"

A middle-aged businessman, dressed in a respectable silk shirt, excitedly grabbed his old friend's arm, spitting as he spoke. "I heard it! I heard it clearly!"

The man called Old Wang was a ruddy-faced grain shop owner. He wiped his face hard, and tears welled up in his eyes.

"Life has really gotten better these past two years! Putting everything else aside, these honeycomb briquettes are amazing! They're cheap, burn for a long time, and don't produce as much smoke. Last winter, my husband didn't complain about the cold at all, and the kids didn't get chilblains while writing! I have a full eight hundred yuan stored in the warehouse, so I feel at ease this winter!"

"you do not say!"

A vendor carrying a load of fresh sweet potatoes, still covered in mud, chimed in.

"My family came from Henan after fleeing famine. A few years ago, we even ate all the tree bark... But ever since the government distributed these sweet potato vines and potato seeds, hey! One mu of land can yield several thousand jin! We have plenty to eat, and they're sweet! The kids in my family are all getting chubby! Now I go to the city to sell these, and I can earn several dozen wen a day!"

"It's more than just being full!"

Another young man, dressed in a blue robe and looking like a down-on-his-luck scholar, squeezed into the crowd, waving his arms.

"Grain prices! The key is grain prices! Do you know how much a dou (a unit of dry measure) of rice costs now? I just asked this morning, and the best white rice is only eight qian (a unit of weight) of silver per shi (a unit of dry measure)! Eight qian! Four or five years ago, it would have cost at least three or four liang (a unit of weight) per shi! It's more than four or five times cheaper! Ordinary families can now afford to eat meat and white rice every few days! Could anyone have imagined such a life before?!"

His words elicited a chorus of sighs and even more heated discussions.

"Yes, as long as we have enough to eat, are warm enough to wear, and don't freeze in winter, then we have hope for the future!"

"When the imperial court wins battles and expands its territory, we feel proud and can stand tall!"

"His Majesty and the Crown Prince are truly working for the benefit of us ordinary people! This war was well worth it!"

"Long live the Great Ming Dynasty! Long live His Majesty! Long live the Crown Prince!"

People closely linked the newly arrived, awe-inspiring news of territorial expansion with their own tangible improvements in life—a warm winter, granaries full of grains, and low rice prices.

Victory is no longer just dry numbers and place names in distant military reports; it has become a symbol of the guarantee, continuation, and even sublimation of this gradually improving life.

Thus, the cheers came from the bottom of their hearts, and the joy was genuine and fervent, converging into a wave of sound that swept across the entire city and soared into the sky.

Amidst the uproar that nearly lifted the roof off, the courier horse, carrying the good news and nearing its limit, finally arrived outside the Chengtian Gate of the Imperial City.

The knight practically tumbled off his horse, and with trembling hands, he raised the tightly sealed, three-feathered, red military telegram tube, stained with sweat and mud, high above his head, shouting hoarsely to the approaching imperial guards and the eunuchs from the Directorate of Ceremonial who had rushed to the scene:

"Liaodong...Korea...Urgent dispatch from 600 li away...Great victory! The victory report is here!"

The urgent documents, as if carrying immense weight and scorching heat, were swiftly transmitted through palace gates and across white marble steps to the Wenyuan Pavilion, the power center of the empire.

Wenyuan Pavilion, the office of the Grand Secretariat.

The afternoon was hot and humid. Even with an ice basin placed inside and the windows wide open, the room was still stuffy.

Instead of writing furiously or engaging in heated debates as usual, the cabinet ministers each held a cup of tea, or flipped through ordinary memorials that were not urgent, or closed their eyes to rest, using this rare moment of leisure to dispel the fatigue of dealing with government affairs for the past few days.

It has been more than a year and three months since the emperor and the crown prince left the capital, and the heavy burden of state affairs has almost entirely fallen on the shoulders of the cabinet and the Prince Ding who stayed behind.

Although there were no major upheavals, the state of "a young ruler and a suspicious country," as well as the costly and protracted war on the front lines, weighed heavily on the minds of every cabinet minister, making them dare not relax in the slightest. However, when they calmed down, they could not help but feel a lingering heaviness and anxiety.

Grand Secretary Xue Guoguan put down his teacup and gently rubbed his throbbing temples.

He is quite old, and even with the help of his colleagues, he still finds it very difficult to work such a long time.

His gaze swept across the duty room: the other cabinet ministers were either conversing in hushed tones or flipping through documents. Everything seemed normal, but the invisible pressure in the air was felt by everyone.

Suddenly, a series of hurried and disordered footsteps, accompanied by suppressed panting and a kind of extremely excited commotion, came from the corridor outside the pavilion, breaking the tranquility of the duty room.

"Your Excellencies! Your Excellencies! Breaking news! Urgent report from Liaodong and Korea has arrived—!!"

A secretary from the Imperial Secretariat practically tumbled in, his hat askew from running so fast, his face flushed red, his eyes gleaming with a terrifying light, holding the crimson military telegraph tube high in his hand, his voice shrill and distorted with excitement.

"what?!"

"Good news?!"

"Quickly! Bring it here!"

All the lethargy, dullness, and fatigue in the duty room were swept away in that instant!
Xue Guoguan suddenly sprang up from his seat, his movements so swift that they seemed nothing like those of an elderly man over sixty. The other cabinet ministers also swarmed around him, their eyes fixed on the sweat-soaked bulletin box.

Xue Guoguan's fingers even trembled slightly. He forced himself to steady himself, took the telegram tube, checked that the sealing wax was intact, then took a deep breath, forcefully unscrewed the cap, and pulled out a scroll of urgent documents, slightly damp with sweat but neatly folded. He unfolded the document, his gaze urgently sweeping over the familiar seal belonging to the Liaodong Military Governor's Office, before settling on the text.

After reading only the first few lines, Xue Guoguan's face, which was usually expressionless and deeply etched with wrinkles by time and power, was suddenly illuminated as if by a strong ray of sunlight! His wrinkles smoothed out, his eyes widened, his lips began to tremble uncontrollably, and the hand holding the document began to shake violently.

"Grand Secretary? Your Excellency? What is the situation of the battle?"

Someone pressed for an answer, their voice trembling.

Xue Guoguan didn't answer immediately. He seemed to want to devour every word on the document, reading rapidly and greedily. The further he read, the more flushed his face became, and the more rapid his breathing grew. Finally, he suddenly raised his head and let out a hearty, exhilarating laugh that almost lifted the roof off:

"Hahaha! Hahaha! God bless the Ming Dynasty! God bless the Ming Dynasty! Gentlemen! We've won! We've won! A great victory! An unprecedented victory!!"

He waved the report of victory in his hand as if it were a flag of triumph, his voice booming with excitement, echoing throughout the duty room:
"Your Majesty is mighty! The Crown Prince is wise! The royal army is invincible! In the battle of Korea, the main force of the Jurchen Eight Banners, including its last remnants, has been completely annihilated by our mighty Ming army! Countless have been killed or captured! Furthermore—we have captured alive the false Qing emperor Fulin, his false empress dowager, and dozens of false princes and ministers! The false Qing dynasty is gone! The century-old scourge of Liaodong has been swept away!!" (End of Chapter)